#aceblck

w. @aceblck

she always gotta find some excuse to stay out longer, taking her time before the last train came to take her back to the condominium. whether she was by herself or with beside someone else, it was still easy to feel loneliness, boredom when she’s roaming freely. when you have no other choice but to play into the collective’s hands, forced to let go of your old identity to be someone completely different so it really made her think every other day but she tries to avoid it at all costs. it was a relief that she could always find something to entertain herself with. 

being observant as she was, there were all kinds of interesting people. half who lived their normal lives with no idea of her situation and what a luxury that was since she herself could not escape it. there were those in particular that she really liked, those who made their mark in any creative way that they could think of whether it’d be driving recklessly on the freeways or drawing on the sidewalks with chalk or paint, however she wasn’t the greatest artist in the world. gemini didn’t remember much of her past, or at all but she imagines it being quite criminal.

ft. @aceblck

he may not be beauty or grace, but bishop likes to think of himself as slightly more coordinated than the average person thanks to Sports—so many sports through school and university that he gets dizzy trying to name them all. blcktmpl and the semideus drug blessing him with heightened senses means that he isn’t clumsy. should not be. yet here he is, staring down at what he can only describe as shattered dreams, cherry flavored. the remains of the lollipop fan out, winking like droplets of crystallized blood against the dull pavement. he blinks and lifts his foot; the bottom of his new sneakers are also covered in red residue.

“shit,” he says instinctively. then a moment later, “i’m sorry.” he can’t believe he’s that guy. you know, the one who takes candy from a baby—steps on candy, to be more accurate, but the point is somewhat there. bishop glances over at the person he bumped into. the guy looks really familiar. a blcktmpl face, he guess, since they both seem to be headed back to the complex. bishop wants to say ace (he’s generally good with names), but he’s not sure if this is the same guy he’s thinking of. it just seems weird with his image. like, who eats a lollipop in this day and age? and a cherry one too. talk about cough medicine on a stick.

Making enemies is all good and fun in the everyday grind of things when there really isn’t anything else to do, but when it comes down to it, it’s quite detrimental to the whole scheme of things. 

It might be somewhat entertaining to egg the other boy on when they’re just passing each other-- cause some trouble when there’s nothing nipping at their heels, but when they’re smack dab in the middle of the hot, hot city with men breathing down their necks-- men with guns and an intent to kill. 

He isn’t finding it all too enjoyable right now. 

“Listen.” He spits at the younger, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. Slamming into each other wasn’t ideal nor was the little tussle that ensured or the weighty fact that any minute they could be down on the ground and out for the count because they spent a little too much time at each other’s throats. “I ain’t gonna let my hatred for you,” and what a hatred it was. “kill me today.” 

He really didn’t care to die because of a bad taste in his mouth.